“Oh, you’ll be all right, I’m sure. By the way, that cook you have is a jewel, isn’t she? She certainly concocts some of the most delicious mixtures!”
“Yes; everything Anna cooks turns out well. And I have only to read her a recipe once, and she makes it to perfection. I sincerely hope we can keep her.”
“Well, I guess you can. Isn’t she having a party at the tea-house tonight?”
“Yes,” answered Marjorie. “And that reminds me, I would like to stop for Mrs. Munsen—she’s chaperoning them, you know—on our way back.”
“Certainly,” replied John, always glad to be of service.
Marjorie found the evening more enjoyable than she had anticipated; sitting in the artificially cooled theatre, watching a good picture, and listening to the full tones of a pipe organ, she forgot her anxieties. John insisted upon ice-cream after the performance was over, for, as he reminded her, they would not want to get to the party too early.
They found the young people still dancing when they drove into the yard, but Anna assured them that refreshments had been served, and that the festivities would end in a few minutes. The girl’s aunt was still there, so Mrs. Munsen felt justified in leaving.
“The only thing I don’t approve of,” remarked the housekeeper, when they were on their way home, “is for Anna and her aunt to stay there all night. I had to give my permission—there was no real reason why they shouldn’t—”
“They’re sensible people!” remarked Marjorie. “At least if they don’t mind those cots. Because they’ll be right there in the morning to start clearing up!”
“But if there is anything to those stories—”